


Now You're Speaking My Language

by Mc-Fane-Ly (CastielAnAngelOfTheLordMC)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: American Sign Language, Angst, Blood and Injury, Castiel Uses Sign Language, Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Newly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Season/Series 11, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22649851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielAnAngelOfTheLordMC/pseuds/Mc-Fane-Ly
Summary: Castiel had accepted his fall from grace, even before it had come about. He'd known it was coming, he could feel it, and this time he was ready. Being human wasn't all bad; he had a room in the Bunker which was starting to feel more like his home, he was content with this situation a second time around. Yet, he didn't simply lose the glowing wisp of celestial light that resonated within him; the loss of his grace meant the loss of his angelic nature. No healing, no superhuman strength, no wings... Just running on human. Absent angelic abilities, intermittent gaps in knowledge he used to be able to list off like nobody's business. He'd had to relearn Latin; he couldn't even recall Etruscan. But he was human, and that wasn't all bad, right?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Eileen Leahy, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	1. I Can Heal

The fall from grace had been both abrupt, though entirely expected in its own way. It was like the tossing tide of a wild river a harbinger of a waterfall ever-present at the end. Maybe the river had been long, twisting and turning with minor and major incidents along the way but it was always going to end up in the same place. Cas knew that. He’d anticipated it. 

Nothing had really prepared him for the feeling of his grace fizzling out of existence. Nothing had prepared anyone. 

The world wasn’t perfect, though the sun was no longer dying, Amara and Chuck had made amends and Sam and Dean had been lucky enough to get their mother back. Lucifer was finally in the wind, forcefully exorcised from Cas’ body during what they thought was their last-ditch attempt to seal Amara away.

That might have been the final nail in the coffin, a culmination of everything that Cas had been through. Multiple possessions, pain and agony, loss and reconciliation of friends, and now his grace was just gone. 

Dean had tried to help.

They’d just gotten Cas back properly, there was no one else riding around in his body or anyone else calling the shots on what he could or couldn’t do; he’d even managed to get the angel to accept his own room in the bunker and get him to stay. A feat in itself.

Something which Dean found he was relieved about.

He wasn’t being overprotective or anything, but it was nice to know where Cas was for once. The guy wasn’t running about or getting himself into trouble, he was in the bunker. Though he still knew there was a little bit to go to get Cas to understand that it was his home as well. It wasn’t just Dean and Sam’s place and he had a room there. It was their home, all three of them. 

There would be no impromptu running off under his roof, not if he could help it. 

Now it was simply a case of getting Cas used to everything, specifically the torrent of human emotions that were apparently just as bad as last time he had been human, or worse. He was silent about what that meant, but Sam and Dean could assume as much. 

Lucifer. 

Dean was currently sat at the kitchen table in the Bunker, his hands wrapped around a fresh cup of coffee and his eyes still drifting between being awake and falling back to sleep. Not having any big-bad to go against was a nice change, but it didn’t seem to fix his sleep schedule. 

Cas either didn’t seem to understand that he needed to sleep yet, even after a month or so; or maybe it was that he couldn’t. If Dean was up at six in the morning, Cas had probably been awake since three.

“Rise and shine.” Dean looked up briefly, squinting at the sight of their resident angel- or their once-angelic resident with a shock of bedhead that would put Sam’s to shame. He was also struggling with pouring his coffee whilst half asleep. Dean had been there not five minutes ago, and promptly stood up to help.

Only to be greeted with a, “Don’t.”

The sound of the chair grating on the floor seemed to have indicated to Cas what was happening, and he turned his bleary eyes attention over to the older Winchester, the glare carefully measured but it was enough to get Dean to sit back down.

“I know what I’m doing, I can pour a drink. I’m not inept.”

His eyebrows shot up at that as Cas turned back around and successfully poured himself his cup of coffee, though instead of bringing it over to the table he just stayed leaning against the counter in a grey t-shirt which was much too large for him - probably one of Sam’s, and some soft pyjama trousers bunching up around his bare feet at the floor. 

It was a sudden shock, but he looked extremely human. He was human, Dean kept forgetting that fact. 

“Never said you couldn’t do it.” Dean said after a moment, trying to pick out his words carefully. As far as they knew, Cas wasn’t taking the human thing well. He spent time in his room, was generally quiet- more so than the angel version. This meant he didn’t open up about anything, and Sam and Dean had both agreed to take the step and become better role models to at least ensure if Cas was stuck as a human then he would be a functioning one.

Which meant talking. Talking about feelings that they were having. Not bottling crap up, it always seemed to come back and bite them in the ass anyway so there were advantages. A disadvantage was that Cas was freakishly good at avoiding subjects. So, when he let something slip, it was the best time to try and talk.

Though Cas was now staring at the dark brew in his mug and avoiding eye contact. 

“I don’t think you’re inept, man. An’ neither does Sam.” Dean said, letting go of his own drink and pushing it a little away from him, then he reached his legs out under the table to push the opposite seat out as a silent invitation to sit down. Only, the seat didn’t move anywhere since it was connected directly to the table.

Cas looked at the seat for a second, then let out a sigh and Dean was sure that he saw a small smile. “I was going to head back to my room, drink it there.”

“And get more coffee stains on your pillow? I don’t want to have to replace it again.” Dean chuckled, trying to lighten the mood further. Yet the words seemed to have an instant and opposite effect for Cas. 

His shoulders drew up just barely, but Dean noticed. His expression went from mild interest into a much more closed off state and there was a slight wince to his eyes as if he’d just been struck with something and not teased.

Except Cas wouldn’t pick up on the teasing. He could barely get any idioms right; he was improving with sarcasm, but a fault Dean needed to address was that Cas didn’t always pick up on the fact that teasing was meant to be light-hearted and not really mean much. Not a personal insult on how he wasn’t doing well as a human. Anything Dean said always seemed to point to that in some way. He found himself wincing in sympathy. Sam would have knocked him on the side of the head due to his idiocy. 

“That was a poor jab.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, he had to think before talking. “I really don’t mind getting you more pillows, there are a load of empty rooms here.” He said, nodding loosely to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “I don’t mind it. Plus, the cases can be washed, so no biggie.” _No biggie?_ Really? Now he was rambling.

“I’m sorry.” He concluded on. It seemed appropriate, there was always a lot to apologise for. This was just one thing.

Cas blinked, as if his mind was weighing out the direction this conversation could go, with no visible conclusion, “You’re not the one who should be apologising, Dean.” 

“I should. I have a lot to apologise for…” Dean said with a sigh, “Just sit down for a sec, no need to rush off and drink your coffee alone. This is your home too.” 

Then a pause permeated the room, then Cas took a few direct strides and sat himself down in the chair that had been ‘kicked out’ for him, then he spent a couple seconds reaching over to the other side of the table to pick up a coaster that Sam had insisted on, since his neat-freak ass didn’t want circular coffee stains on their wooden kitchen table. Or maybe that had been Dean, not that he’d admit it. 

There was a pleasant silence that followed Cas putting his drink on the mat, only for him to pick it up in his hands again and revel in the warmth it gave out. His slender fingers intertwined with each other and his pinkie finger resting against the bottom of the mug as a bit more support. He looked very human in that moment, more so than Dean had anticipated. 

Though he moved his gaze away and down to his own drink. They were having a conversation, an important one. He couldn’t let it slide under the rug even if he wanted that to happen. “Now, about what you said.” Taking a leaf out of Sam’s book, he was already doing well. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Cas’ brows furrowed in basically instant confusion, along with that typical head tilt which immediately brought the angel aspect right back into Dean’s mind’s eye. A plain clothed angel drinking coffee and not getting human nuances. A classic Cas move. A classic angel Cas move. The guilt that he felt following that awareness was light, it was in the background, but the fact that there wasn’t anything they could do - and they had tried, they’d scoured the library, called Rowena, tried so many other ideas and nothing resulted in them knowing how to bring an angels grace back. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cas repeated after a moment.

Dean nodded, “Yeah, that’s what I asked.” 

“No, I was asking you. You don’t talk about these things; you’ve said so numerous times.”

Dean frowned, focusing on the man opposite him, “You were askin’ me if I wanted to talk about anything-?”

“I was wondering why you asked me.” Cas cut Dean off promptly when the misunderstanding dawned. “It’s a ‘chick flick’ moment, correct? You don’t enjoy them.” Even complete with the finger quotation marks. The whole shebang. He had the hunter figured out. Not that it was hard. 

He ran a hand through his hair, though thanks to his own bed-head his fingers got caught on the few knots there, “Right. I’m trying to be a changed man.” He stated. It paid to be plainly obvious sometimes, even if it wasn’t his forte. 

“Sam and me, we thought it would be good. We had the ‘no more secrets’ rule, and we know how that went- but we’re properly trying now. No secrets, that includes how we’re feeling. And how you’re feeling.” He added, spreading his hands, “Turning over a new leaf.”

Cas shifted slightly, as if he wanted to get out of his seat and leave the situation he would never have accounted for. Dean knew Cas liked to account for every scenario, if his social skills were anything like his strategic knowledge.

“I know you don’t like being human, Cas, it’s not easy.” Dean said, “You think you understand something, and then you don’t an’ trust me, I know that it must be frustrating. It would drive me up the wall, man, but out of everyone, you’re the one guy who I would bet money on adapting to this whole thing. And you have me and Sam. We’re here to, y’know, talk and stuff. You don’t get something, just ask. I promise I won't laugh.” He made the cross-my-heart gesture, as a visible cue that it was a promise he would keep. He really was turning over a new leaf.

Cas paused, as if thinking for a second; then one eyebrow rose and he gave a slow nod, “You really are a changed man.” He said, his voice steady and a plain expression on his face, the corners of his mouth curving upwards slightly. 

Cas knew exactly what he was doing, and Dean easily picked up on the fine art. “... Was that sarcasm?”

“Maybe.” Cas smiled, fully. Not teeth and gums, but it was a clear smile and something that Dean hasn’t seen since his grace went pop. “But you presume incorrectly. I’m fine with being human. Sure, some aspects are still a mystery, like correctly cooking bacon or couponing at the store.”

Dean chuckled at those examples, though when his mind caught up to what had been said overall, he ground to a halt since he hadn’t expected to hear that. “So, you… Don’t mind being human?” He questioned, how he was the one tilting his head in confusion. 

“No. Definitely not. I have a home here; I know that now. I mean, sometimes it feels… unusual and I don’t get why you would invite me into your- our home, but I’m getting used to my own bed now. And the emotions. Everything is so much clearer. I know what I feel when I feel it.” This being the most Cas had said about anything in a while, maybe he felt like he could talk about it all because Dean is willing to have this moment with him. That ‘chick flick’ moments were no longer off-limit rarities.

“And how are you feeling?”

“Content. And stressed, I believe. Quite the oxymoron.” Cas says plainly. 

“So, you’re okay with being human?”

“I’ve observed your species since you were apes, Dean. Through different cultures and different centuries and generations, I think I’m well versed in humanity.”

Only something Cas could say which would make complete sense. But if he knew humans so well, what was the stress about?

* * *

These stresses gradually became clearer as time went on. Sure, maybe Cas was okay with the finer aspects of humanity. He could brush his teeth, he could sleep through the night now, he could make his own food and now knew what to eat and around when he should be eating - that didn’t take away the horror of Dean waking up in the middle of the night to find Cas sitting at the kitchen table, fully decked out in his pyjamas, alternating between eating his way through a jar of peanut butter and cream cheese. Though that had been early on into his humanity and Dean had set him straight with a lesson on what constituted a midnight snack, along with a lesson about how he would probably wake up in the morning with something called a stomach-ache. 

No, the stresses showed themselves when they’d decided to go on a hunt. They’d all taken what was a well-deserved break, and whilst Dean hadn’t been entirely all for the idea of Cas tagging along with his newfound humanity because sue him, he didn’t want anything to go wrong; getting Cas to stay in the bunker had been like pulling nails. 

It didn’t help when his authority was undermined with Sam saying, “He’s as good a hunter as any, Dean. He might not have his grace, but he can still shoot a gun and use a knife.”

Cas had all but beamed at being labelled a hunter, Dean had just swung his duffel  bag over his shoulder and tried to keep the positives going through his head. _Cas was more than capable, he doesn’t need to prove himself to anyone, and if he wants to go on a hunt then who am I to say no? He knows what he can and can’t do and even as a human he could probably still beat me in a fight._ That last point was not one he was willing to test just yet. Not after he’d witnessed Sam get pinned within a second of stepping onto the same sparring mat as Castiel, former angel.

Except hunts were wildly different scenarios to controlled fighting in the bunker, and a couple witnesses, around three days of research and a few bludgeoned and barely recognisable bodies later, Sam, Dean and Cas were stood in a warehouse staring down a demon commandeering a male meat-suit, a striking redhead who was brandishing a large chef’s knife, spinning it slowly so the streetlights that managed to make it through the grime covered windows reflected lazily off the polished metal. 

The demon struck first, and quickly.

Dean was already on his back with the air whipped out of him in an instant, with the demon standing over him with a sneer. He was clearly enjoying this, the current illusion of the monster having the upper hand. That wasn’t going to last much longer as Sam advanced on him with an angel blade. It was a calculated move, something which would direct attention away from Dean as he caught his breath again. 

The demon was having far too much fun.

Just like he’d had with the victims, all covered in their own blood, skin lacerated and torn, bones broken and crushed. It had been hard to pin down what they’d thought was causing the deaths. Some large and unknown creature? No. A demon who just wanted to enjoy himself. Killing for the sake of killing, no gain other than entertainment. No soul contracts, no vengeance. 

The three hunters were entertainment too, the demon dancing around them effortlessly and no sooner had Dean gotten his feet under him, he was thrown backwards against a wall and ended up on the floor again. 

Sam had a nosebleed, most likely from a well-placed elbow. He too, followed suit and ended up on the floor with a grunt, the angel blade lost somewhere to the clutter of the warehouse. 

Which left Cas and the demon facing off, parading slowly around each other like two lionesses defending their territory, eyes intently focused on their opponent but bodies mobile, never still. Even in plaid, jeans and boots, appearing as outwardly human as possible; Cas still gave off the daunting presence of an angel. Glare perfectly set, expression calculated, his mind almost visibly running through all possibilities that could happen next. 

The demon moved first, again. Though Cas moved in tandem, his footwork light as he took an equal step back. It wasn’t a show of weakness, he was figuring out his opponent. 

The demon didn’t seem to realise that, and just laughed. The sound abrupt and bouncing off the walls in its echo. “Look at you.” He said, almost jeeringly, but it was mostly with interest. “Someone clip your wings, birdie?

“I’m not here to talk to filth like you.” Came Cas’ grating reply.

Dean might have laughed if he wasn’t sucking in steady breaths from a second winding. 

The demon just raised his eyebrows and smiled. “You don’t even have a true form. No ethereal blue glow for you, just the stink of humanity.” 

Cas took that moment to lunge forwards and rake his blade over the chest of the monster, and whilst there was an orange flicker, there was no dying glow. It wasn’t a lethal blow. The demon was still caught out, one hand going back to thrust his own blade before Cas clamped a hold of his wrist and swept the demon’s legs. 

They both went down hard, Cas thankfully on top, knee planted on the demon’s chest and blade situated over his heart, only being held back by the opposing demonic strength. There was the advantage of weight on the hunter’s side though. 

Sam and Dean could only watch as Cas lent forwards further and further, the tip of the blade being forced down bit by bit until it started to pierce the skin. The effect was instant, and the demon went from smirks to kicking out under the weight of the once-angel to try and get some leverage. 

There was a moment when they thought he would get it, there was a halt in the blades advance, a sharp breath of air forced out of Castiel’s nose before he continued his process. 

Until the angel blade hit home and the orange sparks of a demon in the throes of death bloomed from the entry wound until it lit up his whole body. The warehouse was filled with a sharp scream before that too fell silent and the place was plunged into a sudden sense of finality.

The demon was dead, in the space of the two minutes they’d faced off against each other, he was dead. Cas followed his success with the very human action of rolling off the body, onto his back and blew out a sigh as the stress of the situation and the success both settled in at the same time. 

Dean laughed, though it came out as more of a slight wheeze, but he could get up now. They’d been lucky that he’d decided to relent and allow Cas on the hunt, even as a human he could hold his own. Dean knew that. 

Though the longer he stared at the body, and at the shaded silhouette of his friend as he laid on the floor, something started to seem off. Maybe it was the shallow breathing that met his ears, or the confused look Sam shot his way before he called out,

“Cas, you good, man?”

When there was no reply, Dean pushed himself up instantly, aching lungs and muscles be damned as he rushed over to analyse his friend. 

The problem was obvious, not severely dangerous, thank god, but obvious. There was the demon, dead on the floor; then there was Cas beside him. Eyes closed but still conscious, hands empty of his own blade and collected down at his left side, pressing against an exposed area of skin just above his hip.

Where the kitchen knife was sticking upright through his side.

Piercing the skin cleanly, around two inches into his side, the blade tip exiting out the back. As far as knife wounds went, it was probably a dying attempt at fighting back but the demon hadn’t got a good hit in. That didn’t mean it wasn’t serious, the blood that was gradually starting to pool there was testament to that, and any possible internal injury that there could be, just getting worse under his stare. 

“Sam, get the medical kit from the trunk, now.”

What, Dean-?” Sam said as he collected himself from a heap on the floor, though whatever he was going to say fell silent and the rest of the conversation was filled with fast footfalls leading to the exit of the building. Dean just dropped beside Cas, taking off his jacket in order to get his top layer of plaid off. Then he bundled it up on the wound, wrapped around the knife and all to staunch the bleeding. 

He gained gritted teeth and a pained groan in response from his friend, but that was better than silence. “You’re okay. You’ll be fine, Cas, don’t worry. I know this hurts but we gotta keep pressure on it.” Dean looked up at his friend’s face, to find his eyes partially squinted open but crinkled with pain. He didn’t want to cause anyone pain, but if it was that or slowly bleeding out then Dean knew what he’d prefer. 

Cas seemed to prefer the opposite as he reached for the handle of the blade as if to pull it out.

“Woah-! Don’t you dare touch that. The knife stays in, keep your hands to yourself, Cas.” Dean promptly took a hold of his wrist and pulled it away, pressing lightly into the floor beside him as he used his other hand to keep up the pressure.  “You’d think you’d know to leave it in, being aeons old and all that.” He gave a bare laugh, but it died at the sight of the knife again. 

How had he missed something like that? They’d known the demon was armed, but the instant Cas seemed to have the upper hand, that factor seemed to go away as if it wasn’t a problem. It wouldn’t have been a problem, had Cas still been an angel. Yet, he was very human, and Dean was kicking himself for not getting up faster. For not helping his friend. He’d just seemed so capable, so sure of himself, that there had been a moment where Dean had forgotten about the lack of grace. 

Some strained mumbling caught his attention and pulled him from his thoughts. 

“What?” Dean questioned.

“I need the knife out.” was the response. Dean just shook his head and kept a sharp pressure on the wound, he knew it was hurting but what was a bit of pain when the alternative was bleeding out?

He sighed, “It’s staying in, I just said.”

“But I need it out.” Cas mumbled, the hand that Dean didn’t have pinned down moved to lay over his eyes, a very human gesture. If it was to block out the world, the pain, or the conversation, Dean didn’t know. “Take it out.”

“Cas, I’m not-”

“Take the knife out, please.”

“I know it hurts, man, but Sam’s coming with the medical kit. Just hang tight-”

Cas shifted around on the floor, and Dean unceremoniously shifted with him, trying to keep his hand and his now bloodstained shirt bunched up around the wound; all the while cursing the fact he had an injured friend with ants in his pants. 

“Damn it, Cas, stay still.”

Then Cas tried to sit up, his hands going behind himself as support to stop him from falling back onto the ground. Though one quick look at the handle of the knife sticking out of his side and the blood gradually pooling and Dean was surprised that Cas managed to stay upright with the amount of blood that had just rushed from his face, leaving him with an ashen pallor.

Sam’s appearance then, with the medical kit in hand, was a Godsend. Since with barely any time to analyse the situation that he’d walked back in on, Sam was promptly situated at Cas’ side with an arm supporting his partial sitting position as the former angel blinked owlishly at the wound. 

“I’m bleeding.”

There was a quiet, yet cautious laugh from the younger Winchester who was currently fishing through the medical kit with one hand and passing requested items to Dean so he could start with dressing the wound as best he could; starting with gauze. “That tends to be what happens when you get stabbed, Cas.”

The look the brothers received back was one of drowsy confusion. That wasn’t good.

“Dean-?” Sam started, and his brother just nodded.

“He’s bleeding a lot. Didn’t help that he moved, just give me a sec.”

There was a lull in conversation, only permeated briefly with grunts of pain and sharp breaths. The knife had to be stabilised and the wound had to be dressed around it. It was a silent agreement that they weren’t going to take the knife out whilst Cas was laid on the dirty floor of an old warehouse. Even if it meant more struggle with transporting him to the car.

“Sam, can you pass the tape?”

Sam looked up from where he’d been carefully keeping an eye on Cas’ face, from the slow shift of his eyes to the pale skin, he wasn’t getting any better, or worse. 

“Sure, just let me...-” He lowered Cas back down to the ground, letting gravity help the wound and the bleeding as he went through the kit for the small roll of tape.

“Sam,”

“I’m looking, Dean.”

Dean nodded to the kit as a whole, “It’s under the syringes.”

“It’s not there now.” he frowned, then, “Found it.” Sam held up the roll of tape, at the exact same time there was a sharp intake of air and the sound of metal clinking lightly against the ground. 

Both the brothers turned at the same time, to find the kitchen knife on the ground just next to the wound, a large red stain quickly soaking through all the fresh gauze and Cas with a small pool of blood pooling in the palm of the hand he had situated next to the open hole in his side. 

“... I’m not healing.” Cas whispered. 

“Cas, what have you done-?” Dean said, eyes wide.

“- It’s not healing.”

Sam was already moving faster than Dean, taking off his flannel and leaving himself in a dark blue Henley as he pressed the shirt to the bleeding wound. This time, there was a thinly veiled shout of pain that broke free from Cas’ lips. 

Now that there was no knife in the wound, and no way to further injure himself more than he already had done, Cas was trying more freely to move away from the pain. Which only caused more bleeding.

“Where’s my grace?” a question asked in the usual deep timbre of Cas’ voice, yet it seemed floaty, thready and detached. Dean faltered was this the stress they'd spoken about days before? The adjustment from angel to human, the losses from it? The loss of who he once was, what he had?

Dean and Sam shared a quick look as they worked together to keep Cas still. He’d lost too much blood; he was still losing it.

“Where’s-”

Dean moved behind Cas, lifting him under his arms until he was sat up slightly, his back pressed against Dean’s chest so the older Winchester could restrict his movements. “You’re human, Cas. You haven’t had it for a couple months. Now stop moving, you need to stop moving.” 

“I need to heal it.” he reached down for the wound and Dean caught his arm. 

“Sam’s handing it, just relax.”

“Let me heal it.” Cas said. There was force behind the words, but not much strength when he tried to pull his hand from Dean’s grip. In fact, there wasn’t much force behind it at all.

With a few minutes of stress, Sam had managed to get the bleeding more or less under control, but Dean was still uncomfortably sat with the pool of blood soaking into the bottom of his jeans, and a less than lucid former angel in his arms. 

Dean let out a quiet breath, and eventually let go of Cas’ arm, allowing the man to at least use it to make himself more comfortable with the extra support. Yet, as soon as Dean let go, the hand dropped limply to the floor.

"... Castiel?"

Cas’ head rocked back against Dean’s chest, eyes rolled up into his head and his body slack with unconsciousness.

How had he missed that? How could he have let Cas pass out?

Dean tipped Cas’ head forwards, so his chin was touching his chest and he gathered his own legs beneath him to get ready to stand up with the additional weight.

He looked to Sam, and that was the only communication they needed.

_ Get him to the car, we’ll go from there. _


	2. It's Like Harmonies

Dragging himself to consciousness had been a feat, and he had already failed multiple times at it. It was hard to recall what had happened, just that whenever his mind edged into the waking world, the feeling of the soft mattress beneath him and the slightly heavy blanket pulled up to his shoulders was a persuasive means to allow his mind to drift back into the realms of unawareness. 

Until Cas’ mind eventually seemed to decide that he’d had enough sleep and the next time his mind woke up, he was wide awake. His eyes weren’t open, he wasn’t yet ready to shift his body, but he was awake. To be greeted with the plain wall of his room in the Bunker, and the new addition of a chair from the library placed next to his bed. 

They’d been on a case, right? They’d just finished it when…

Cas sat up in his bed, seemingly far too quickly for his mind to follow since at soon as he had his back straight against the headboard he could feel the pain building in his side and his mind was listing; his eyes swimming with shadowed dots as he blinked the dizziness away from his vision. 

Though once this lightheaded sensation had shifted, Cas didn’t waste anymore time with lifting up his pyjama shirt - baggy, probably one of Sam’s - to reveal the clean and neat bandages wrapped around his lower torso. They’d finished the hunt and he’d been stabbed. 

Cas just closed his eyes and wiped a hand down his face, he’d been stabbed and he had followed that up with removing the knife. 

He remembered when the blood flow went from a small trickle due to the plugged wound, all the way to a steady pour when he’d taken the blade out. He remembered feeling a sense of relief and achievement when it had been removed.

Cas remembered the shock on Dean’s face. Surprise on Sam’s. 

Then thinking he could heal himself. 

That was why the bandages were so padded, that was why it hurt whenever he shifted the tiniest inch, why his body was resonating with the dregs of pain from his shifting position. 

He carefully lifted a hand, ghosting it over the surface of the wrapping as to not aggravate it. There were probably stitches, followed by a daily bandage change. 

All because blood loss had made him confused and detached from his body. It had been so much like the first year when he’d had Jimmy Novak as a vessel. Sure, his true form was seated in the devout man, but there was still a sense of detachment. Like, for want of a better phrase, a puppet master pulling on the strings. 

He’d felt detached and dissociative, separate from the real world, from the worsening wound in his side. 

Cas took a short moment, drew in a deep breath. There wasn’t much that could be done about his actions. They were in the past. Yet, that fact didn’t stop him from looking back, wishing he’d somehow acted differently. 

His inability to differentiate between his humanity and the abilities of an angel could have ended with a severely different scenario. 

Cas was already part way into this spiral of thoughts and ‘what ifs’ when his door opened without premise, and Dean walked in with a cup of coffee cradled in one hand and a folded magazine in the other. He seemed intent on going for the chair, but pulled up short when he noticed Cas sat up on the bed. 

There seemed to be a moment when he took in the scene, like his mind was loading and catching up; though Cas noticed the moment the Winchester made sense of what he saw. 

A small smile broke out, which turned into a grin and Dean quickly took his supposed place in the chair, the coffee going onto the bedside table.

“Sleeping Beauty finally comes around.” Dean said, almost in a blase tone. There was a clear hint of relief too.

Had Cas really been that bad?

He just stared at Dean, properly looking him over. The bags under his eyes, the caffeine tremors in his hands; likened almost to the slight shake Cas could feel in his own fingers, the way he shifted in the chair as if he’d been sat in it for a bit too long. 

“You’ve been watching me sleep?” Cas questioned, eyebrow raised. 

Dean just gave a slight shrug, the reference to past conversations clearly not going amiss, “I wouldn’t say sleep, more of a blood loss induced unconsciousness. You’ve been out for a couple days.”

Both of Cas’ eyebrows shot up at that, and he readied his hands on the bed as if he was going to push himself up more. Dean seemed to notice this, and he was up in a flash with one hand flat against Cas’ chest to keep him still and his other hand going for the second pillow on the other side of the bed. 

“Stop moving so much, me an’ Sam already had to redo them once after the drive back here. Turns out unconscious you doesn’t like long journeys crammed over the back seat of the Impala. We tried to get you as comfy as possible, but you know-” With that he trailed off, busying himself with threading a hand behind Cas’ back to help him shift forwards a little, then crammed a pillow down behind him between his back and the headboard to make Cas’ position a bit more supported and comfortable. 

Cas could have done that himself, sure it may have been an ache and a stretch, but he could get his own pillow. He’d had worse injuries than a knife wound, he didn’t need to be fussed over. 

Though he kept that thought to himself, calling Dean out on it would just lead into a circle where one would express the need for Cas to keep himself in bed and resting, where Cas would take the side of  _ I’m already feeling better, I don’t need to be cared for. _

Unfortunately, Dean seemed intent on that very thing. He was adjusting the blanket over Cas’ chest, lifting the shirt slowly to inspect the wound, eyes glancing up to his face every so often as if he was trying to read his mind and find out if he was in any pain. However, as Cas was getting ready to politely get him to dial it back, Dean was back in his seat. His coffee was still untouched, still dancing with steam rising from the fresh brew. The magazine was back in the older Winchester’s hand, but it was still folded over and being tapped lightly against the man’s restless leg. 

Then, “You said you couldn’t heal yourself, you were getting pretty worked up over it, man.” Dean started loosely, and Cas wasn’t sure what he should say. 

Should he just say ‘yes’? It was more of a statement than anything, it didn’t require an answer; it just reminded Cas of what he’d decided to do, what his thought process was. If there has actually been any thought process for it. Should he just stay quiet, see if Dean extrapolated on the vague statement?

Cas flicked his eyes between where the wound was situated under his shirt, then back up to Dean’s face, “I know. And I know I’m human; I was losing a lot of blood, Dean. A lot. Pardon me if I was slightly delirious.”

Dean winced a little, but seems to reign himself in after that, sitting back in his chair.

“I know you know.”

“Do you?” Cas countered, before he could filter the words. They came out biting and accusatory, which he didn’t intend. 

Dean’s shoulders drew up in the slightest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing- I’m sorry.” He paused, clearing his throat. Then a slight silence lapsed into the room, and Cas found himself looking down at his hands, picking at the threads of the quilt. Not meeting Dean’s gaze. He knew this method. Perpetual silence, made the best of people uncomfortable. As an angel, a few hours or a few days in silence wasn’t much. It was negligible. As a human, it was uncomfortable.

Cas sighed, “You seem to think that I don’t understand what my humanity means.”

“You pulled a kitchen knife from your side, as a human.” Was the reply, voice exasperated, Dean’s hands spreading out to his sides as if the reasoning was clear. 

It was; it made sense. It was just missing the main point. “I was delirious.” 

“You pulled a knife from your  _ side _ .”

“And you’ve never done anything idiotic when you’ve been injured? I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Cas ground out, tilting his head back against the wall and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even want to have this conversation. He knew what he’d done, he knew it was dangerous, he didn’t need Dean thinking he didn’t understand the weight behind his actions. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I never said you were? You’re not getting my point-“

“And what is your point?” Cas shot Dean a glare. “That I don’t understand what it’s like to be human? That I can’t differentiate between who I used to be and who I am now?”

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “You were trying to heal yourself, Cas-“

“And if I was? I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to keep up the act of me being fine with not being an angel, and I’m sorry that my inability to think clearly made me try and do something I know I can’t do.”

At that, a palpable silence hung in the room. Dean was sat down, his mouth moving just slightly but there weren't any words coming out. Like he was trying to think of something to say back, but his mind hadn’t caught up. 

Eventually, there was a quiet, “You said you didn’t mind being human?” It was phrased like a question, as if asking for the truth. It was exasperated and almost like an accusation, except the more Cas looked at Dean, the more he realised that the man was tired. That he’d probably been awake for the few days that Cas had been out of it, if the increased prominence of the ever present bags under his eyes were any indication. 

It simply gained a sigh from the angel, and he reigned in the slight build-up of frustration. There was no point getting worked up over this.

“I can be okay with being human, but I’m still allowed to miss what I used to be.” Cas stated. He wasn’t angry with Dean. He wasn’t angry with anyone. He was just working through a lot. 

“And I don’t mind being human, that’s the truth,” Cas continued, “What I don’t like about it is the fact that I wake up and every day I seem to find something else that I am not able to do anymore. I was an angel, I could do so much. I had a vast well of knowledge, I could shoot a target from over a hundred feet away in gale force winds and still hit my mark,” He let out a slight breath. “I could lift boxes like it was nothing and now I can pull muscles and struggle with apparatus that should be so easy to lift.”

It was so easy to pay attention to the lump that was forming in his throat, since the list was long but if Cas thought about it for just a little longer, the list would so easily be more extensive. He couldn’t heal, he couldn’t hear or answer prayers, he couldn’t see people’s souls. 

Dean was sitting in his seat, his coffee forgotten in his hands and his attention focused on what Cas was saying. It was as if he hadn’t imagined he’d get this information, but that was probably a safe assumption to make. Cas wasn’t exactly the forefront of mentioning when something bothered him. Both as an angel, and a human. 

“Did you know that I can’t read Latin anymore? I know words but I’m not fluent. ” He raised an eyebrow, this was an aspect which was just a little bit funny to him. Latin was the route of most modern languages. That, and he was now in a Bunker with two hunters who knew more Latin than he did. Cas knew the exorcism, but that was just memory. If he got his hands on a Latin text there would be no hope. 

“I don’t even remember Etruscan-” He huffed out a laugh. 

Dean just listened, there was a brief smile when Cas managed to laugh about the absurdity of the situation, but overall he was silent.

“Do you know what hurts the most, Dean?” Cas spread his hands out in front of himself. “That I can see all these abilities going away. I don’t know what I’ll lose next because the general human brain has the computing capacity of a supercomputer, did you know that? That’s so weak in comparison to what I used to have.”

At that, Dean gave a light scoff at the idea, but quickly reigns himself in, “A supercomputer sounds powerful.”

“My mind used to surpass the capabilities of a quantum computer, Dean.” Cas deadpanned. “There isn’t a string of words I could put together to explain what my mind could do, and I’ve lost it all.”

Dean cleared his throat, put his coffee onto the bedside table and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, turning until he was sat up against the headboard and on the covers. Next to Cas. “I wouldn’t say you’ve lost everything.” he replied plainly.

“What?” Cas turned to look at the older Winchester with a doubtful expression.

“I mean, you fight like you always did, if just a bit more scrappy.” He added. 

Cas’ mouth dropped just a little, and Dean had to force himself to hold back a smile. “My fighting is not scrappy-”

“-And you’re still freaky smart.” He continued over Cas’ interruption. “I want to get you to do an LSAT test, or an IQ test. Anything to measure the level of freaky that’s ticking about in that brain of yours.”

“Freaky- What’s your point, Dean?”

Dean’s gaze moved away briefly, over to the door of the room, then the wall, as if he was filtering through what he wanted to say. If he wanted to say it. “You’ve lost a lot, Cas. But you’re still you. You’re everything that makes you Castiel. You’ve lost languages, you’ve lost skills and powers, but you’re still you. You’re scary smart and even though you really pulled a stunt with taking that knife out of your side on your own, you’re that same dork who pulled me from Hell. Plus, you can relearn languages, you can train and be able to lift heavier things.”

“Etruscan is a dead language, Dean. No one speaks it.”

He rolled his eyes lightly. “My point is, there’s going to be negatives. You went from a one-hundred down to like, I don’t know, barely even a zero-point-one. But there will be positives too, sometimes you just have to move through the bad to see the good. And I mean, hey, the world isn’t ending.” Dean gave a slight huff of a laugh, and nudged Cas on his shoulder, who was sat beside the Winchester with a furrowed brow.

Cas tilted his head, then said, “Don’t tempt fate, Dean.”

Dean latched onto that, and raised one eyebrow with a smirk. “Did once.”

“I’m well aware. I did too.” He replied. 

“And what a couple of dumb-asses we are.”

* * *

“What do you mean you don’t want to come?” Dean questioned one morning, he already had his coat and shoes on, as did Sam. The only difference was that Cas was still dressed in the same shirt and trousers he used to sleep in. “You can go around with Sam, nerd out about vegetables or whatever you both do. Get excited about Quinoa.” Dean said, voice giving away his slight frustration. 

“What the hell are you talking about-” Sam quickly put in, throwing his hands up in amused exasperation. 

“He’s still dressed for bed, it’s nearly midday.”

“It’s barely nine.” 

He’d waited for Cas to wake up so they could go to the store, only to find out that the guy didn’t even want to tag along in the first place. He’d even made Cas his cup of coffee to speed up the process and here he was, his efforts going to waste. 

“Dean, he can stay.” Sam said, and with a smile he started walking to the door, trying to silently prompt Dean to follow. 

Which he didn’t. 

“And let us do all the heavy lifting? No way.”

“Might I remind you, I no longer have my angelic strength, I wouldn’t be much help with lifting heavy things.” Cas put in after a moment. 

At that, Dean closed his eyes and blew a breath out of his nose, “It’s an expression, man.”

Cas gave a small, knowing smile and a nod which said that he did know that already, then gestured to his side. The same side that was still padded with bandages a couple days after he’d had a knife in his side. 

“Besides, remember, I pulled a knife from my side, I’m resting.” he added, which gained a loud laugh from Sam and a glare from Dean. 

“You always complain when I mention that-”

Sam sighed and walked back over, swiping the Impala keys from his pocket in the fluid motion of someone who had done it before for other nefarious reasons. “Dean, come on. Cas is fine here.”

“So you’re taking his side?” Dean raised an eyebrow and gestured to Cas, who was back to doing what he had been before he’d had the interruption; reading a book. 

“Yes, I’m taking his side. It’s one grocery run, it’s not like we do it often.” At that, he made a show of walking to the door, then when he was up the stairs and just leaving, Sam held up and jingled the car keys. “Cas can rest up, since he got  _ stabbed,  _ Dean. Come on, we could have been there by now.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, then looked between Sam, his keys in Sam’s hand, and the former angel sat down reading a book and ignoring the conversation. Then he sputtered, “You let Sam mention the stabbing thing, but not me?”

There was a quiet sigh, and Cas looked up just with his eyes, “Because it’s the first time he’s mentioned it.”

After a brief lapse into silence, the sound of a revving car started up, and Dean’s head whipped around to the door in an instant. 

“You’d better go, Dean. Or Sam will drive.” Cas said plainly, turning to the next page of the novel. 

If there was any way to get Dean to leave the Bunker in an instant, it was apparently the idea of someone else using his car. Since he was up the stairs and out the door in less than five seconds. There was the clang of the metal door swinging shut, and Cas was alone with his own company for what must have been the first time in a few weeks. 

He was content to just do nothing, he had a coffee - and he entirely assumed he was going to have more by the time the Winchester’s got back. He had his book, even though it was fairly ambiguous as to whether the information he was reading on the Yeti and Bigfoot was entirely accurate, it was an interesting read. Maybe because it was from the library in Lawrence, and not the Bunker; meaning it was unequivocally and amusingly human. 

From the “authentic” pictures, to the supposed “real encounters”, it did nothing to broaden his knowledge, it was simply enjoyable. Cas was enjoying it. 

Which meant that after a couple hours and around three coffees later when he heard the sound of the Bunker door unlock and swing open, Cas was sat at the kitchen table with his fourth and most recent cup of coffee, and a half finished book in front of him. 

Which was how Sam and Dean found him, arms laden with shopping bags. Cas with his nose in a book. 

Dean just gave a slight laugh, “Bigfoot isn’t real, man, sorry to burst your bubble.”

Sam not so subtly elbowed his brother’s side as he went past. “Just let him enjoy it.”

“Hey, I am, I was just making sure he doesn’t get it in his head that the next Wendigo hunt we go on is the abominable snowman.” Dean shrugged, dumping the bags down on the floor next to the fridge and started unpacking it. Only stopping briefly to hold up his supposed spoils of war until Cas just so happened to look up. 

“Pie.” 

That gleaned a smile from Cas, who shut his book and got up from his seat to help the brothers unpack. 

Only to get stopped in his tracks by an obstacle known as Dean. “Woah. Sit down.”

“First you wanted me to go to the grocery store with you.” Cas said, crouching down slowly to be careful of his stitches and at least start unpacking a bag. “And now you’re telling me to sit down?”

Dean huffed, using one foot to nudge the bag Cas had away from him over the floor. “You didn’t want to come. Which means leaving the bags to us.”

“I can unpack if I want to, it’s not like I’m lifting the bag everywhere.”

“But you’re still injured.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t put cans of,” Cas pulled a tin can out the bag and read over the label quickly. “-Campbell's Cream of Chicken soup into the cupboard.”

Dean wiped a hand down his face, then threw his hands up with a quiet, “I can’t win.”

There was a small smile of success on Cas’ part, who went about his task of emptying the bag. Only to get half-way through when there was a resounding knock on the Bunkers door, the sound echoing throughout the room. Three pairs of eyes turned in the general direction of the library.

Sam was the first to move, walking past the table Cas had been sat at to unclip the gun that was holstered below it, then slipped it into the back of his trousers for safety’s sake.

“Anyone expecting anyone?” Dean said eventually, when there was another hard knock on the door. 

“We’re about to find out. Could be mom.” Sam shrugged, though there was a small smile on his lips at the idea of it. She had spent more time out in the world, doing her own hunts. Dean was okay with that, he was, it was just weird to know his mother was back but was nothing like he remembered. Sam had the benefit of never knowing anything different.

“Mom would use a key.”

Sam paused at that, and there was a brief nod before he headed out the room.

Cas and Dean watched him go for a moment, both stood up with shopping still in their hands. Cas eventually put his down, leaning against the side with his eyes trained on the door. It seemed like a unanimous decision, to wait and see what happened. To find out who was at the door. 

Neither noted that there was a tense feeling penetrating the air until the door to the Bunker opening went off without a hitch. A hitch being there was no immediate fighting or a gun discharging. Though then there was just the present silence of the Bunker until there was the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.

Sam’s were easily recognisable. The other lighter set, not so much.

Dean glanced over at Cas, gave a light shrug and turned back to the door just as Sam emerged, a wide smile on his face. 

And his cheeks were flushed, which to Dean meant one person. He knew because he always teased Sam relentlessly about the more-than-crush. 

Then when the shorter women walked into the kitchen soon after, Dean waved with a smile. “Eileen! What brings you to this side of Kansas?”

When everything had seemed to have calmed down, when the foreboding sense of oppressiveness had left the air and it was apparent that the Bunker’s visitor was a friend and not foe, Cas had promptly gone back to unpacking. Only for his attention to be pulled from his task yet again.

Eileen Leahy? The person Sam sometimes mentioned in passing with a clear infatuation. Not that Cas ever pointed it out. He had no intention of causing embarrassment for the younger Winchester. Dean, not so much. 

Eileen, the deaf hunter. The one Sam praised for her skill. She'd killed a Hell-Hound when she could neither see or hear it

Eileen shucked the bag off her shoulder, at Sam’s not-so-subtle prompting of slipping the strap off her shoulder for her and taking it over to the table. Her eyes followed his movements with a slight smile, and Cas had to hold his own smile in. He was human, emotion seemed to slip through much easier than when he was an angel. The reason for Dean’s teasing was now staring him in the face.

“Finishing off a hunt in Columbia - Missouri. I thought I’d come visit.” She spared a glance up at Sam when he came back over to her side. “Ghost, salt and burn, easy enough.”

Dean seemed to give a nod of approval, before, “Hunting on your own is dangerous.”

“I know. I would have called you guys if I’d needed the help.”

That statement seemed to have knocked something in Sam, because his eyes flicked to Eileen, then over to where Cas was crouched down. Like realisation had just flickered at the back of his eyes.

“Eileen, you haven’t met Castiel yet, have you?” Sam stepped forwards, turning to face Eileen as his hands started moving as he spoke.

Cas watched them too, with his own smile. It was ASL, slightly slow and a little disjointed. It was hard to talk and sign, due to the varying sentence structure between speech and sign language, but Sam managed pretty well. 

Very well, since Cas could understand it. 

He could understand sign…

_ C-A-S-T-I-E-L? The Angel Castiel?  _ She repeated, and Cas could feel his hands already moving to correct her. 

‘Human’ was such a simple sign, you hold your hands out in front of you with the palms facing each other, and move them down.

Sam seemed to pick up on the sign too, after a short bit of thinking as to what it could be. He got to correcting her before Cas did. Not that Cas was moving to correct her, he just found himself lifting his hands to reply. He was just beaten to it. Though he did notice the way Eileen’s eyes flicked down to his hands, then her eyebrow raised just a little as if she’d picked up on the movement. Though if she had, the moment passed. 

“He’s human now.” 

“Grace fizzled out.” Dean added after a moment, before the younger Winchester reiterated the point by tapping Eileen’s shoulder to get her attention. 

_ Grace gone.  _ Sam signed, then gave a brief smile in Cas’ direction. “I just said your grace was gone, never mentioned it to her. Sorry, man.”

Cas gave a shrug, that was the situation simplified. Though it was nice to not need the translation. It wasn’t like with Latin, for some reason he hadn’t lost all languages. Which was… Nice. It was a nice feeling knowing that he knew more than just English. Maybe he’d just gotten unlucky with the languages he’d already tested. Pashto, Spanish, Latin, Sumerian, Akkadian, all gone. 

But sign language. It was still there. Cas couldn’t help but smile at that fact, even if the subject was currently on him.

“I’m sorry.” Eileen said, her hands moving with her words. It was a simple sign, rubbing a closed fist on the chest in a circular manner. Cas just smiled and waved away the situation. 

Then put the can of soup onto the side to free his hands.

_ You didn’t know, no need to apologise for it. I’ve been human for a few months, I’m used to it.  _ Cas could feel that his signs were fluent. He’d assumed that since he’d never really put that talent to use, even as an angel, it would be rusty. But the movements flowed just like words. His face was probably the most expressive it had been since ever, sign language required it. It was calming in a way, to feel so good at something.

Or maybe the calm was due to the fact that the room had fallen into silence. Dean wasn’t rustling the paper bags to get the food out, Sam was flicking his eyes between Cas and Eileen. They were both silent.

Eileen was the only one of the group who didn’t seem shocked into silence, Cas guessed it was nice to have someone else who fully knew the same language. 

_ It’s nice to meet you properly.  _ He smiled, then looking at the way Sam’s expression shifted from slight shock into clear interest, Cas had an opportunity he couldn’t miss out on.

_ Sam won’t tell you this but he has books on sign language under his bed. He’s been collecting them. _

That gained a laugh from Eileen, and she looked up at Sam briefly. Apparently that was all the Winchester needed to be placed on edge, and for the apparent spell of shock that had been placed on the room to be broken as Sam picked up some of the signs. Specifically his name,

“-What did he say? Cas, what did you say, I saw my name?” Sam questioned. 

Dean seemed to break his vow of silence at the same time too, since at the same time he said “-Since when do you know sign language? I thought you’d lost most of your angel encyclopedia?”

Cas shared a glance with Eileen, which turned into a smile, and dissolved into a shared laugh between the two of them. Maybe it was the expression on Sam and Dean’s face, both of confusion; or maybe it was the shared absurdity of the situation. 

Of all the languages Cas had kept from being an angel, sign language just so happened to be that one.

The laughter only grew more when Sam stepped in between the two of them, his face just slightly flustered. He knew Cas had mentioned him, he didn’t know the details. 

“Cas, what did you say?”

Eileen reached forwards, tapped the back of Sam’s hand to get his attention.

She signed,  _ Sign language book.  _ And Sam’s cheek flared red enough to get Dean to give a loud laugh. 

“Sammy just embarrasses himself, I don’t even need to do anything.”

Sam shot Dean a bitch face, which just made it harder for any of them to maintain their composure. 

“Dean, shut it.” 

“Am I embarrassing you in front of your girlfriend?”

That seemed to be all the indication Sam needed to have to start ushering Eileen out the kitchen. Cas noted that Eileen’s cheeks had reddened too, which meant she hadn’t missed Dean’s remark. 

Cas hadn’t been human for long, but he could pick up on pining when he saw it. 

“I’m going to show Eileen to a room.” Sam called over his shoulder quickly, basically ushering Eileen into the hallway with her bag over his shoulder. 

Eileen managed a smile and a wave over her shoulder as she was ushered out.

Silence descended, but only for a second before both Dean and Cas broke down into a fit of laughter. They both were well aware Sam could hear then, but they knew he wouldn’t be setting foot back into the kitchen soon. It was a good laugh, a true laugh. 

Probably the first proper one Cas had ever had. Sure, being human made him feel so much more. Which meant experiencing humour and joy wasn’t such a foreign concept. Everything was so vivid.

The laughter continued for a minute, and when Sam didn’t return, they both resigned themselves to having to unpack the shopping. 

It was a companionable silence, and once they were done, both Dean and Cas sat down at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee each, and a smile still on both their faces. 

It was calm, the most relaxed and at peace Cas had felt in weeks. 

Dean seemed to have noticed the shift in demeanour, since he leaned across the table with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

“See, you didn’t lose everything. You’re still you.”

* * *

Sam had eventually emerged back into the kitchen along with Eileen when dinner had been finished. Pizza seemed to be the universal go-to dish when it came to having impromptu guests over.

Though once everyone had gone to bed, Cas had stayed up under the guise that “no, Dean, I won’t stay up too long. I’m just reading.”

Only, it was already one in the morning, and Cas had just turned to the final page of his book when he heard light footsteps coming from the hallway. 

Eileen walked into the kitchen, her eyes tired and her hair a mess presumably due to sleep. She was also clad in a large plaid shirt that was definitely not her size, though he wasn’t going to mention that.

_ Couldn’t sleep?  _ He questioned, which gained a small flinch of surprise when she seemed to notice she wasn’t the only one in the kitchen, or awake at that time in the morning. 

_ Shouldn’t I ask you the same?  _ Eileen countered with a tired smile, then walked over to the fridge to get herself some water.

Cas just waited until she was turned back around, and as she made her way over to the table Cas was sat at, he signed,  _ I suppose we should both be asleep. _

That gained a small smile as she sat down, placing the glass of water on the table between the two of them, when she steepled her hands and looked over Cas for a moment. 

Cas stared back with a small smile,  _ We didn’t get to talk much earlier. _

_ Sam seemed intent on avoiding the conversation. He expected the teasing, though. I expected it too.  _ Eileen shrugged,  _ It’s what brothers do. _

_ Correction, it’s what Dean does constantly. _

Eileen just nodded in acknowledgement, then paused, her water still not touched on the table.  _ I’m sorry about the angel thing. I really didn’t know. _

Cas waved his hand,  _ I didn’t expect you to. It’s been a couple months and it’s not as if anyone outside of Sam and Dean knows of my predicament. _

She seemed to think for a second before asking,  _ Is it hard?  _

Straight to the point, Cas was a fan of that. She asked straight on questions, not avoided subjects like Sam and Dean found themselves in the habit of doing. 

_ I feel very grounded. Very normal. Or at least, I assume what I feel is normal. It’s hard to figure out when you don’t properly know what it’s like to be human, because I wasn’t made to be human. _

_ You were made to be an angel, so maybe this humanity isn’t like general humanity. _

She’d really hit the nail on the head. 

_ There’s no way to measure it.  _ Cas sighed, then gestured to Eileen and then in the general direction of the hallway. Then a slight gesture to what she was wearing.  _ Did Dean’s teasing get to you both? _

Eileen just looked down at what she was wearing, noticed that it clearly wasn’t hers, but kept her face carefully neutral this time.  _ Maybe. My question now. _

_ We’re taking turns with questions?  _ Cas raised an eyebrow, but leaned forwards on the table. 

“Apparently.” Eileen said, a small smile on her lips. “What was it like, being an angel?”

Cas was caught off a little at that. It wasn’t as if he got asked that question a lot. Or at all, as much as the Winchesters tried to help, they would avoid a question like that. No matter how many times Cas reiterated that he didn’t mind.

_ Like I was…  _ Cas paused, his hands out in front of himself as he figured out how to word it. If he could even word it.  _ I guess I felt detached? Compared to how I feel now. My mind was- well, I wouldn’t really relate what I had to a mind like you or Sam or Dean. I was made up of light, harmonies and frequencies. It’s indescribable, really. There aren’t the right words that I can string together to make you understand.  _

Eileen just watched for a moment, her eyes widening slightly at the explanation. Or lack of. Humans were unusual like that, the unknown and incomprehensible always seemed to amaze. Like Bigfoot. 

“Wow.” She said after a second.  _ Must feel weird, right? _

_ I don’t believe it’s your question.  _ He smiled at her response to that, sitting back on the seat and raising her eyebrow as if in challenge. Though she smiled and stayed quiet, gesturing for Cas to continue.

If she was going to be blunt with questions, Cas would too. He was good at being upfront.  _ Are you and Sam together?  _

Eileen seemed to take that moment to have a long drink of water, using both her hands on the cup. It was like the human technique of eating food to avoid answering a question. Eileen was preventing her ability to sign. 

Then, once she’d finished, she gave a brief  _ maybe. _

_ You can’t keep answering with maybe, I’m being open with you.  _ Cas laughed and wiped a hand down his face. Then yawned. Eileen followed soon afterwards. Then they just locked gazes and gave a quiet laugh. Apparently they were both as tired as one another, and they were both refusing to admit it just yet. 

_ So is it weird being human? _

_ You didn’t answer my question. _

_ I said maybe. _

_ Yes or no?  _ Cas questioned.

_ Maybe. _

_ Not an answer.  _

Eileen sighed, then turned her hand into a fist and moved it up and down. A yes. Cas felt triumphant, he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he was right, or because he knew before Dean did.

_ Don’t you start teasing too. _

Cas held his hands up,  _ I would never. I have more class than Dean. _

That gained another laugh, and in turn, followed promptly by another yawn.

_ You should sleep.  _ He prompted. Honestly, he needed to take his own advice too. Which, this time, he did. Cas closed his book and stood up from the table, “We’ll both be grouchy in the morning. And Dean will know we were up.”

Eileen stood up too, and took her glass to the sink in the unanimous decision that if they both sat back down, they wouldn’t be going to bed any time soon. Sometimes, Cas was good with his humanity. He knew now that his body wouldn’t like him very much if he stayed up all night. He knew Eileen, being human, would be much in the same boat. 

“I assume you’ll be going to Sam’s room?” Cas questioned quietly as they both stepped out into the hallway, carefully measuring his footfalls to make sure they weren’t too loud. He didn’t want to wake anyone up.

Eileen was not so courteous, since she lightly slapped Cas over the shoulder at his remark. 

_ More class than Dean, really? _

_ I tried my best.  _ Cas grinned lightly, then his expression mellowed out lightly. It was nice to see, and nice to know that Sam did have someone. Since the world stopped trying to end itself time and time again after each calamity both he and the Winchesters caused and then subsequently averted, a relationship between a hunter and a hunter was probably the most normal thing to have happened in a while. 

Since Cas going from angel to human was nothing normal. 

He eventually stopped in front of his own room, opening his door. Eileen still had a bit further to go for Sam’s room, but she’d stopped too, with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” She said,

Cas tilted his head, “The angel question? If I feel weird?” 

She nodded.

He sighed, then thought for a second. He could feel sleep encroaching, and he was sure Eileen felt it more since she’d clearly already been asleep once. But he would humour her, even if he was tired. 

“It’s slightly weird.” He replied.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is.” Cas smiled. A taste of her own medicine.  _ You should sleep. _

_ But does it feel weird?  _ She asked again.

He paused, then nodded.  _ Honestly, I feel like all my senses are dulled.  _ He admitted.  _ Taste is much more pleasant as a human, but I feel blind.  _ He shrugged.  _ As an angel, I used to… I had hundreds of eyes. I could see in every direction, through different planes of existence. And I guess I also feel deaf.  _ Cas gestured to Eileen’s ears, and then to his own, _ Not in the same way as you. But imagine always hearing everything. The buzz of existence, the song stars made or the crash of galaxies colliding. Then becoming human.  _

Cas looked into his room. There was a lot he was missing, and so many big changes it felt like he’d never settle into his humanity. It made a lump lodge in his throat, though he cleared it to try and get it to shift. Unsuccessfully.

_ You’ve lost a lot.  _ Eileen observed with a sad smile.  _ I’m sorry.  _

_ It’s nothing to apologise for. I suppose it’s a good thing. I’m like Sam and Dean, like you. I get to live like the people I’ve given my life to protect multiple times. There’s an irony to this, and I like to see my humanity as a reward. As my next step.  _ Cas smiled, then wiped a hand down his face. Tiredness was settling in. 

Eileen knew this too, but she took a moment to step forwards and pulled Cas into a hug. It was light, and quick, but it meant a lot. By the time Cas realised what had happened, Eileen was already halfway down the hallway, though she turned briefly before she went back into Sam’s room.

_ You’re good at being human.  _ She signed,  _ And you’ve got a small group of people that are here to help you understand everything. I’ve met angels before, you’re nothing like them. I wouldn’t call this irony.  _

Eileen smiled and before she disappeared into Sam’s room, she added,  _ It’s more poetic. _

Cas looked down the hallway with a small smile on his lips, even after Eileen had gone back to bed. 

Like poetry?

Maybe this turn of events was poetic? He was the very thing he swore to protect. Maybe he’d achieved what he was made to do. Protect and understand humanity.

In that hallway, even as the motion lights flickered off, Cas was still standing in his doorway. He was content. For the first time in his existence as a human, he was content. 

He was at peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had a couple assignments for University that needed finishing before I could start writing this - I kept feeling guilty whenever I wrote this since I was technically procrastinating on Uni work, but it's done now!  
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Ideally, there will be more writing to come soon, stay tuned!
> 
> Fane,

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this! I haven't written for Supernatural in a while (Or anything, really). I always appreciate criticism and comments, they help me improve for next time. There will be another chapter coming out in the next couple weeks, if I can find time around University to write something that isn't academic.  
> Feel free to talk to me on any of my social media:  
> Tumblr: castielwinchestercas or mcfanely, Insta: @mcfanely  
> If you have any ideas you'd like to see me write, send them too! I love new ideas and I'll be glad to brainstorm and build on them, though I can't promise to write everything sent my way.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Fane,


End file.
